Drug Smuggling Can Get You Burnt To Death In Jail

Billed as the next great gang movie, American Me, the first film directed by Hispanic activist and actor Edward James Olmos, delivers much more. A tale of two worlds, the film presents accounts of life inside and outside the American prison system.

Inside, there is order. Here Santana (Olmos), in California's Folsom State Prison for murder, finds fulfillment as leader of the Mexican Mafia gang. He runs an operation to collect "rent," which can be cigarettes, knives or drugs. The idea, as the protagonist frequently reminds us, is simple: once you control the inside, you control the outside.

Such an operation, we soon learn, can be messy. In one case, a drug smuggler puts cocaine in a red balloon and flushes it down a toilet. At the end of the plumbing pipe sit two Santana lieutenants, who dutifully pick through excrement to retrieve the contraband.

For those who do not play by Santana's rules, life is even messier. Bars of prison cells constitute no protection. One foolhardy prisoner who steals drugs from the Mafia has to reckon with Santana's lieutenants. Using an aerosol can to douse the offender with kerosene, they light him on fire, burning him to death.

These tidbits are the film's best scenes. We are meant to be horrified by what we see, and Olmos presents it to us with a gritty, journalistic realism, free of heavy-handed, Oliver Stonesque emotional manipulation.

That is not to say that the prison scenes, which compose the first half of the lengthy movie, are dry. American Me achieves a unique musicality and poetry.

In the prison, where "things make sense," Olmos narrates the scenes in coarse verse. "Thought I knew it all/Ended up in Juvie Hall,/ and the shit got even deeper," he says as the scene cuts from juvenile hall to the inside of Folsom.

But the tone of his narration abruptly shifts in the second half of the movie, after Santana is paroled. The protagonist resumes his role as drug kingpin, but the poetic voice-overs are gone. Santana struggles with everything. He clashes with rival gangs and with formerly loyal lieutenants like J.D., a "half-breed" played in old-time gangster style by William Forsythe.

Slowly, Santana loses control. The gang begins to "eat its own"--killing off less trustworthy members to test the loyalty of the rest.

As his life falls apart around him, Santana meets single mother Julie (Evelina Fernandez) who falls for him almost immediately.

As a representative of all women, Julie is the movie's hero. She endures poverty, works long hours and goes to school. True to her saintly demeanor, she is martyred by Santana's corruption: Her son dies from a cocaine overdose. The gang has been selling bad stuff. Santana cannot return Julie's feelings until it is too late.

With all these plot lines running through the story, critics have assailed Olmos for trying to squeeze too many movies into American Me.

But these critics miss the point. Olmos is telling us that everything--the prisons, the gangs, the drugs--is connected. With all the powerful images that the director uses, we are powerless to disagree with him.

According to Olmos, American Me advocates two measures. First, with a stinging indictment of the penal system, the film makes strong arguments for prison reform and gun control.

Second, for those children using drugs and committing crimes, Olmos's movie is meant to be a horror film. Despite its R rating, the director maintains that high-risk children should see the film.